Light Years
by Tahti
Summary: Jack's girlfriend coaxes him to confess the embarrassment of his first time.


_**A/N:**__ This story connects with another one of mine, __**The Office**__. If you read it, you'll see how. If you haven't, I recommend doing so, to avoid confusion about the epilogue. If you leave out the epilogue, though, it can be enjoyed as a standalone just as well. Also… yes, I wrote a teenage story... :)_

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><p>"She smells like vanilla milkshake," the lanky redheaded teenager muses, slurping the rest of his canned soda.<p>

Jack follows his idolatrous gaze to the terrace on the property adjacent to his parents' and sure enough… there she is, the queen bee of all the honey-skinned beach babes, the high school Alpha Female, a goddess as far as Jack is concerned. Her flimsy bikini leaves pretty much all of the toned and honed body on display as she lounges languidly in the sun, perfecting her tan, flanked by her waiting maids.

"Silverman, you don't even like vanilla milkshakes," Jack shakes his head, aimlessly kicking the water in the pool from the edge where they are sitting. He wouldn't be able to help the pang of jealousy at the mention of his friend getting close enough to the object of his yearning to distinguish her smell if he hadn't witnessed her cornering Marc by the school lockers to ridicule the obvious bemusement of a younger guy.

"I think she likes me," Marc states with a geeky grin although he isn't the nerd between the two of them. "You should have seen the way she looked at me…"

"She pinched your cheek!"

"Exactly! Chicks do that, right?"

"Aunts do that…" But in all honesty, how would Jack even know? He shared one very awkward kiss with a pig-tailed daughter of his father's friends in 6th grade and that was pretty much it. And Marc… Marc likes to talk a lot. And imagine things.

"She's so fucking hot," Marc squints his eyes in California's eternal sunshine, making Jack sigh. Because that she is. Only two years their senior and as slender as a classical dancer should be, she has the body of a woman, their class female friends' breasts nowhere near that round yet and their hips lacking the swinging motion when they walk. Jack has found himself picturing them behind his closed eyelids every single night, his hand wandering into his pants, but the image never develops much, even though he has seen… what he'd be supposed to do with her in those magazines Marc smuggled to school from his older cousin. He's just… too self-conscious to let himself fantasize about anything beyond admiring her from afar.

"You know what, I bet I could nail her if I really wanted to," Marc elbows his friend.

"Silverman!" Jack's brow furrows. He doesn't like that degrading phrase. "Don't talk about her like that."

"What? You think she's a virgin?"

_You are_, Jack wants to say but shrugs instead, knowing his hyper-active buddy well enough to not read a real insult in his words. "I don't care," he says; after all, there is a certain tradition to those prom nights… And the divine Sharon isn't coming back to school when summer ends any more. But he really doesn't care what Marc, or anyone else, would have to say about her… reputation. She's got them all wrapped around her little finger anyway and she can afford to take her picks.

"I would lick her whole, up and down…," the redhead flattens his tongue to his palm in as lecherous a manner as his sixteen-year-old mind can comprehend and snorts with laughter at Jack's expression which is a combination of disgust and actual arousal, the one he can't stop when "licking" and "Sharon" are mentioned together.

"Shut up!" Jack barks out, just in time with a forced cry of an attention-demanding, whiny seven-year-old boy cutting through the air.

"But you promised!" The child cries out for the whole block to hear and making both Jack and Marc abandon their fantasy sexual lives to the reality of Sharon's much younger half-brother stomping his feet and flailing his arms in front of her fairly unaffected, aloof self.

"You were supposed to show me how to swim that… that butterfly thing!"

Jack can't hear her response, just the boy's hateful "I hate you" before he drags himself closer to their pool and crouches down on a bench, sobbing.

Instantly, Jack feels sorry for the child. It's not his fault to be born into a family no less screwed up than Jack's own, the parents not paying much attention to their offspring unless it's to demand: good manners, good grades, achievement in sports… The value for their money. And you can't help but want to please them, hungry for the substitute of love, approval, Jack would conclude if he let himself dig deep enough into the drive behind the feeling of… inadequacy whenever his father is near.

The boy, _David_ is his name, may be a little spoiled attention-whore, but he's just a sad child now, Jack thinks, his instinctual reaction being to reach out and make things better. Leaving Marc by the pool, he walks up to the bench between the two yards.

"Hey," he takes a sit by the child, "what's up?"

"I hate Sharon!" David rubs his fists into his eyes "she said she would show me… and now…," he sobs, "she says to wait until school… because… because… she has more important things to do!"

This is what must have stung the most, Jack realizes, being pushed away. And this is where the attention-whoring is rooted.

"I'll teach you," Jack offers without much thought. "How's that?"

"You?"

"Yeah, I'm in the swimming team."

"You are?" David's eyes widen in sudden adoration making Jack chuckle awkwardly. "Sharon isn't!" The boy has clearly found his new hero but Jack is not comfortable with such a role, he'd rather just… get going.

"So what do you wanna learn?"

xXx

From behind her designer shades, Sharon's eyes follow them into the pool. If asked, she would have to admit that the neighbors' son, Jack, is quite a sight. In the couple of years she's lived here, after one of her mother and step-dad's never-ending moves across the country and the world, she never really noticed the shy, quiet boy. She knows he must be younger than her, what with hanging out with that scrawny ginger smartass, but with all that swimming practice she's read about in the ranking section of the bulletin board in their school, he has the physique of an athlete already. Young, but distinctive. And he's grown impressively tall over the last year.

Puckering her lips, she watches the muscles in his back flex as he dives into the water, the annoying brat of her half-brother for once quiet and satisfied with having Jack's attention.

"Do you know what grade he's in?" she asks her bimbo girlfriends, stopping their giggling and gossip about their fellow bimbos.

"Who?"

"Jack Shephard," she points with her chin. "The one with David."

Both of the impossibly tanned and perm-haired girls turn to take a good look. "Cute!" one decides. "He was in our school?"

"Yeah," Sharon turns to her stomach for a more comfortable viewing position and undoes her bikini top, for an even tan. Her two loyal sheep follow immediately, to her slight annoyance, because she knows they do it unwittingly, they want to _be_ her. "I think he still is."

"No way!" the huge purple bow in the mass of brunette curls was supposed to copy Madonna, right? "He's got to be in college!"

"I know, right?"

"Shall we take a better look?" Sharon glides down her shades, a cunning smile playing on her pink glossed lips, making the girls giggle in anticipation of getting to play with their ringleader's prey.

"Hey, Jack!" she yells, stopping him mid-dry stroke. He's even cuter when all confused, she decides, he likes them confused and embarrassed. "Come here, would you?"

Her tone is more of a request than an invitation and Jack stands there for a second, his wet hair sticking out in all directions, unsure what to do, not wanting to disappoint the boy but disbelieving his own luck at the same time, with the… woman he's idolized speaking directly to him.

He turns to Marc to find him gone, probably to get another soda, not there to offer him either an out or thumbs up.

"I'll be right back," he promises the pouting child in rushed words and climbs out of the pool.

"Looking fit," Sharon's friends whisper appreciatively.

"He's a swimmer," she supplies and then strikes her best seductive pose that's just a breath away from revealing her bare breasts.

"Jack," she drawls, not taking her shades off, "can you put some lotion on my back?"

"Um… sure," he mumbles, not ever stopping to think why the hell can't they do it for one another and how he's going to keep his cool while touching the skin he hasn't even dreamt to touch.

He drops to one knee, gingerly, between the two sun loungers trapped between the lioness herself and one of her wannabes, pouring the oily goo into his palm, with his head buzzing from the rush of being so close to her but his heart racing with adolescent nervousness.

The feel of her skin, warmed in the sun, is like electric current to Jack, shooting through his hyper-sensitive, hormone-overdriven system. He wouldn't even know what to compare the exquisite suppleness to, never having touched a woman's naked body before and certainly not having expected to lose all control over his own, as he registers the unmistakable tingling below his shorts waistband...

"Sharon here says you're in the swimming team," the strawberry-blonde to his left chirps, "I see you give private classes, can I get one too?" she entices, making the purple bow giggle madly and making Sharon roll her eyes. "I'm Maggie, by the way."

"And I'm Sandy!"

"Um… yeah, sure... Nice to meet you..." Jack doesn't spare a glance for either of the girls, too transfixed to develop a coherent sentence and sending them into another fit of high-pitched cackle.

"Make sure to put it all the way down," Sharon all but purrs, as much for effect as it comes from her realizing that she actually enjoys the tentative touch of his hand inching down her spine. Almost as much as she enjoys his obvious abashment.

"So, Jack... what college are you going to?" Sandy twirls a curl between her fingers.

"I... don't know yet," he not only has no clue how to respond to flirting but is completely distracted by the exquisite dip of Sharon's lower back where it ascends into the curve of her hips... And that if he were to let himself relish in her beauty, no amount of football-themed thoughts are going to stop the erection from forming.

"I'm a junior," he adds, before realizing that drawing attention to his younger age is probably a mistake.

"Really! I would've never guessed..." Maggie gives him an exaggerated once over, wriggling her brows." You must practice a lot for those swim meets," she says, and they both giggle, making Jack flush as he desperately tries to think of a come back while trying to hide his hard-on.

Sharon keeps silent, mentally slapping the silly cows upside their coiffed heads but lets them play, because as clumsy as he is, Jack's hands are delightfully gentle and he's a pleasant change from the cocky juvenile Casanovas who think they can smooth talk her into a blowjob or just try to grope her. He has clearly no experience but the... worship in his touch makes Sharon believe that with proper instruction, he would be worth taking in her bed...

"Do you have a girlfriend, Jack?" she shoots, point blank.

"No...," he shakes his head.

"Come on, isn't it a high school thing for sports team captains to get all the best girls?" She flashes him a sly grin.

"I'm not the captain..."

"Oh, it's just a question of time," Sharon assures him, letting the compliment sink in before she twists it.

"And I think I know for a fact that at least one girl wouldn't say no..." she pauses for effect, tilting her head to give him a look through her thick lashes, enjoying the small timid smile playing on his unsuspecting features...

"You know Betty? The sophomore writing contest winner?"

He nods.

"The fat blob with coke bottle bottoms for glasses?" Maggie exclaims.

"Well, she's got... good grades, you've got to give her that," Sharon teases.

The girls dissolve into laughter and Jack feels nothing but confused. Yes, he knows who Betty is, a nerdy quiet girl who just doesn't do socializing. Not unlike him at all.

"I think she likes you, Jack," Sharon states, anticipating a snort and denial.

"That's... nice," he says, not sure how he'd be supposed to acknowledge the fact or if it's even true.

"Nice? Are we talking about the same Betty?" Suddenly, Sharon feels thrown. That's not the reaction she was going after.

"I guess so..."

"Well," somewhat annoyed, she fixes her stare on the trees ahead. "If you ever need my help with hooking up with her, let me know."

He doesn't say anything, not really comfortable with the mocking of the other girl even though the truth remains, she isn't the one haunting his dreams. It stings a little that his goddess, the one he knows is not quite as superficial as she likes to pretend, goes along with ridiculing somebody just because they are not part of her entourage, especially someone who is pretty much just like himself... Does she mean it? After all, Jack has witnessed her giving in to half a night of quiet sobbing just after her maids left her sides the other day, right here, on this terrace.

"Is Betty your type?" Sandy starts over.

"I... don't know," he replies, truthfully. How would Jack have any idea if he has "a type" if the first and only woman he's so completely captivated by is the one he's currently allowed to touch?

"Or would that be… us?" Sandy snickers with a meaningful look down to Jack's shorts. "Definitely happy to see us!"

Maggie joins her in laughter and Sharon catches a glimpse of what must be a rather impressive erection straining against the extremely embarrassed teenager's tight shorts. _Ha! Touchdown!_ She thinks and decides then and there to go ahead with her plan to sink him fully later on.

"I... have to go - ", as awkwardly as his crouching position makes it, Jack turns away from them, his cheeks burning.

"Wait, what about us, we need lotion too!" Maggie taunts in a sing-song voice.

"That's enough!" Sharon shuts her up. "Thank you, Jack," she lets him off the hook with the tone of a true empress of her little plastic kingdom.

"But that was fun!" her sheep protest as she watches his impressively broad for a sixteen-year-old back slump and disappear inside the house.

"He's too young," she states in feigned disinterest, and turns over to her back, not bothering to tie her top up, knowing that if Jack sees her now, he will forget all about the humiliation and just long to be near her again.

xXx

"What just happened?" Jack jostles his excited friend at the terrace door on the way of what he's convinced they mean by walk of shame. Who knows how much Marc has overheard, or seen, he's not the one whose ridiculing Jack dreads. The thought that he was set up never really crosses his mind, he's just devastated that his body betrayed him and made him look pathetic to the woman he adores. His one and only chance to touch that glorious body and he screwed it up.

"Leave me alone," he plops heavily on a sofa, having briefly contemplated locking himself up in the bathroom to get rid of the… evidence, but there's no need to hide from Marc and he actually doesn't feel like doing that. The hurt to his pride is too fresh to entertain fantasizing.

"But how did you… What did they want? And from you?" Marc's baffled expression displays his struggle to make sense of the scene he saw but mostly, he's blown away by the concept of getting in such close proximity to three nearly naked girls. Sharon, especially. He still squeezes two cans of chilled soda in his hands.

"Lotion on her back. She wanted me to put lotion on her back," Jack replies, woefully. He'll never forget the exquisite softness of her skin… He's torn between wanting every little detail to stay vivid in his head and wishing it never happened.

"Man! That's… Wow!" Marc is clearly impressed. "Did you do that?"

"Yeah."

"Holy crap! Just thinking of that is going to give me a boner!"

"Yeah…"

"Wait a minute… Is that what…?" With all the excitement that his imagination no doubt propels, the gingerhead is kind of slow. Now both him and Jack stare directly into Jack's crotch, where the tent is evident.

"Man…" The tone of Marc's voice is sympathizing, Jack knows that he understands exactly the torture he's been through, the arousal, the helplessness and the mortification. It's not like either of them can control their penises. If anything, it's the other way around.

"Do you wanna… do something about it? You know…" Marc's fist pumps the air on the level of his own hydraulics. "I can bring the girlie mags…" It's not like they haven't done it together a couple of times before, while looking at those exact magazines.

But Jack shakes his head. "I don't feel like it," he says. He feels defeated and an awful lot like he's going to cry, like he's a little child again but determined to keep it together. He will not whine about how they made him feel inadequate and embarrassed, no. And the erection… It'll finally go away, right?

"These!" Suddenly Marc's outstretched arms are shoving the cold drink cans almost under Jack's nose. "These may help!"

"Yeah, thanks," Jack makes a face, ducking. "Try it on yourself." Whether his friend's brilliant idea is to hold the cans to his painfully stiff member or pour their freezing contents on top of it, he's not going to add injury to insult. "It'll go away…"

And it does. But as soon as Marc goes home for lunch and Jack goes to his room to read, when he glances through the window… The familiar tingling in his shorts is unmistakable. There, posed to perfection, lounges his goddess, completely topless.

She's alone now, her minions having left, and she's only partly in the sunshine, shadow cast on her upper body. She might be asleep, what with not adjusting her lounge chair to follow the sun. Angelic, that's how Jack would describe her golden curls surrounding her peachy complexion, the curve of her upper lip, her slender neck, statuesque shoulders… And then there's the pair of the most perfect, most beautiful breasts that Jack has ever seen. Not that he has seen many. But the softly rounded mounds with their rosy little nipples take his breath away.

Eyes glued to the marvel, Jack reaches inside his shorts simply to flip his growing penis up, to relieve the discomfort, but then of course his mind wanders… What are they like to the touch? He doesn't even have anything stored in his memory that he could use for comparison. His own body is angular and hard and judging by his father, he might sprout hair on his chest and sometimes he's wondered how women, who are so beautiful and smell so good, would even be attracted to men at all. That is a reflection that will reappear now and again throughout Jack's grown up years, even after he will have stopped questioning that fact of life and learn to simply count his blessings.

With a sigh of resignation Jack takes himself out of his shorts, grabs a tissue from the nightstand box that his mother has quietly left there. He'll never know how it feels to touch those heavenly breasts, he concludes. Or maybe even kiss them… Oh, yes, a shiver runs down his spine as he tries to imagine touching his lips to the supple flesh, tasting the sweet, sweet skin… He tugs harder on his fully erect dick in a well-practiced stroke; he must have discovered the source of fun when he was a toddler.

Jack knows about anatomy. He has done his homework on the reproduction system and family planning and sexuality from the books his father gave him and which are way more extensive than the handbooks at school. He knows that female breasts are supposed to be sensitive and that they play a big role in a woman's sexual response. He wonders how the gorgeous Sharon likes hers to be touched, or kissed… He has no clue of what variety there even is, but he'd do his best-

And that's it. Jack's eyes squeeze shut and with a fitful exhale, he fills the conveniently placed tissue with a load of gooey semen. That has felt good. But it's mostly a physiological need for Jack these days, not a savored pleasure.

He sighs, tucks himself back and looks towards Sharon. And he immediately feels ready to go again. It is probably for the best that his mother is calling him out to go downstairs for lunch.

xXx

"Jack."

He freezes. He didn't think anyone would be out in the yard at this hour, let alone her. It's way past midnight and the air has cooled off pleasantly, the odd cicada being the only sound in the quiet neighborhood of upclass properties. Jack can't sleep, unlike his parents, who shared a bottle of wine over dinner (Jack is sure his father had more to drink than that, but he prefers not to ponder it) and he finds that staring at the pool water sparkle in the dim light of the garden lantern is very relaxing. But his body tenses upon hearing Sharon's hushed whisper.

"Can I come over?" Her perfect silhouette emerges from the deep shadow, now wearing some skirt and a long cardigan that she has wrapped all around herself along with her arms.

He nods. What excuse would he have for not agreeing? And would he really not want her near him? The fiasco of the day aside, he has a hopeless, mad crush on her, of course he will take whatever _let's be friends_ crumbles she has to offer.

His heart picks up its pace when she comes to sit very, very close to him, dangling her shapely legs over the pool edge and into the water, next to his.

"I'm sorry about today…" she starts, not looking at him, and she sounds so… sincere. So different from her studied, poised persona. What Jack doesn't know about, however, is the deliberation in which she has let the mask drop.

"It's okay…"

"No, I really am. They are just so stupid sometimes and I was stupid…" Sharon pulls on the hem of her flower-print dress, exposing just a little more of her toned thigh that's nearly touching Jack's and he has to gulp down the knot that forms in his throat.

"You know, they want me to go to law school," she suddenly changes the subject. He blinks in confusion. Her dolled-up friends discuss future career choices with her? And they are being all brainy now? He suspects that she _is_ much smarter than those girls, but it's still unexpected.

"My parents," she clarifies. "They think that dancing is a waste of time." Oh, that's what she means; Jack has seen her dance at a couple of school events. Ballet, the classical type. She was nothing but extraordinary at it, as far as Jack's hormone-flooded brain could comprehend from watching her _float_ smoothly on stage, dressed in outfits that left nothing to imagination.

"I'd like to go to Paris, to study dancing." In a seemingly unwitting move, her foot brushes against his in the water. "But they won't pay for that."

"My dad wants me to go to med school, eventually," Jack offers. It's not like the idea is completely unappealing to him, he's always had interest in biology and medicine, but there's just something depressing about his father assumption and expectations. Like Jack is an extension of him.

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know… I guess it's okay."

"I've been thinking about going to Paris by myself. Find a job… Pay for my classes." If Jack had a crush on Sharon before, he might be falling for her now. Against everything that common sense would advise. Because Paris is on the freaking other side of the world, but her trust – _has she told anybody else? _– is his rapid undoing. Not to mention the close proximity of her wonderful smell… Besides, there's got to be med schools in Paris, too.

Jack keeps quiet, afraid to break the intimacy of the moment. They've never really talked, except for the obligatory niceties when Sharon's parents moved in to their house, most of the time Jack wasn't even sure if she was aware of his existence. And now she confides in him. He glances up to see her stare pensively into the dark skies.

"Isn't it weird that what we can see doesn't exist anymore?" He follows her gaze up, somewhat thrown. Women. Who can keep up with them? "The stars," she explains.

"The universe is bigger than the distance that light can travel in a year…" Jack's own voice doesn't sound very convincing to him as he's trying to reason, but it's clear she does know the scientific facts. She's just in a contemplative mood. Or something.

"Light years…" she cocks her head to look at Jack and he would swear her eyes twinkle just like the stars. He's mesmerized. "There's something magical about that phrase, don't you think?"

He shrugs. It's just science. And science is a safe place. Magic implies the unknown. Unexplained. Beyond our control and comprehension. Jack doesn't believe in unexplained, it's a scary concept. But it is like she cast a spell on him and he doesn't even fully realize how smitten he is with her not only being a pretty face because he's too busy studying that face adoringly.

"You really don't have a girlfriend?" She almost whispers, with the tiny curl of her lips that's not condescending this time. Jack shakes his head and lowers his eyes. "Have you ever had one?" Another shake of his head; why does she press it, to humiliate him more? Soon she's going to ask if he-

"Do you want to kiss me?"

Jack's head jolts up. He's not sure if he's not imagining things, but Sharon is looking at him with earnest eyes and her fingers brush against his where he's rested his hand against the pool rim.

"I like you, Jack," she says, his name never sounding better than on her sweet, full lips. "I think you'd be good at it."

Him? Oh dear God. He has never in his wildest dreams imagined that she would want him to and he doesn't know what to do, _how_ to be good at it, and his palms are all sweaty in an instant and… and… But here is the woman of those wildest dreams and she's asking him to kiss her and if it's all a hallucination than Jack never wants to be brought to his senses.

She's still looking expectantly at him, and in her mind, it's a combination of the approach she adapted especially for the quiet, shy boy and the excitement born from the prospect of getting to play with him while introducing him to sex. Well, she hopes that's how things will turn out. Sharon doesn't think of herself as extremely experienced, but a couple of past boyfriends put her way above a virgin. Also, it is true, she does like Jack.

Wordlessly, he nears his face to hers; he can feel her warm breath. His limbs tremble, but he doesn't even feel them do when his lips touch hers. It's clumsy and if she didn't tilt her head, their noses would collide and he just stays like that, lips pressed to hers, afraid to move or the bubble might burst, but it's heaven and the rush he feels in his head, in his whole body must be what they call getting high.

And then he feels her lips shift, like she's nipping on his ever so slightly and she scoots closer, so he mirrors the move. Sharon congratulates herself mentally: he's got zero experience, but plenty of instinct and attention and for once she's not getting a tongue shoved down her throat like it's a drain pipe just because a guy is too insecure to admit inexperience.

Her hand finds its way to his thigh just as the tip of her tongue darts out for a little touch to his lower lip- Oh God, no, he's hard again! And she's going to notice! Jack draws in a shaky breath, breaking the kiss.

"I'm sorry," regretfully, he looks to his lap, not even trying to hide his condition. The kiss was so wonderful, why did his stupid dick have to ruin everything? Who knows what might happen if Jack continues kissing her... In the years to come, Jack will remember that moment fondly on those few occasions when his problem is the opposite.

Sharon on the other hand, decides that he's adorable, heartbroken over a hard-on.

"That's kind of the point, you know..."

But then she gets up and his heart is sinking even lower, because yes, obviously the damage can't be undone, she thinks he's a pig and will never let him nowhere near herself again. Ever.

"Come with me."

Once again, his surprised eyes look up, to see her hand extended toward him in an invitation.

"Where?"

"To our house."

"I…," Jack feels a sudden surge of nervousness, fear, even. Has she just invited him to a make-out session? He's not sure he can measure up or what exactly is he expected to do or… God, and then there's of course his dick that won't go back to soft near Sharon, not a chance. But there's not a single fiber in his body that doesn't want what she's offering. "I don't know if I should…" he glances at the neighbors' house.

"It's okay, they are out for the night," Sharon assures. "One of their charity functions."

There's no reason to think Jack's parents would seek him out in the middle of the night, he might as well… He feels lightheaded when he stands up and she clasps her hand over his. So much so, that he doesn't even mind the straining discomfort in his pants.

Her hand is small and light, but she's almost dragging him, a step behind her. It's not that he doesn't want to go, oh no. He's just still stunned and disbelieving that this is happening to him, that Sharon has stepped out of his dreams and decided to act them out. They enter the dark, quiet building and she pulls him toward a staircase.

"Where are we going?"

"My room," Sharon smiles and Jack feels his knees go week. "David might wake up and come downstairs." Oh, that's what she means.

Her room is spacious and not completely like Jack would imagine a girly living compartment; it's not all in pink for one, which he would be able to see better if there was more light than that supplied by the garden lamp on the outside. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust and yes, he can see her, but also the disappointed realization kicks in that whatever takes place tonight, won't give him as clear a visual as he got from his earlier peeping.

"Come here," Sharon pats the bed next to where she's sat on it. "Don't just stand there."

Like that's easy. Because where the visuals are limited and dimmed, the olfactory sensations make up for it: this whole place smell utterly… feminine. It is vanilla milkshake. It's like swimming in a giant bowl of the most fragrant, creamiest milkshake. With rose petals in it. And something Jack can't name, something instantly addictive, some molecules that drill straight into his head. Well, whichever head.

He does as requested, though. Takes the spot beside her, nervously rubbing his palms against his shorts.

"Want to pick up where we left off? It was nice…" She whispers, moving her hand on top of his.

He nods. It was bliss, that's what it was, _nice_ doesn't cover it. Even with all his shaky nervousness, he can't wait to be allowed to kiss her again… _Again_. Jack has never imagined he would think of kissing Sharon in terms of recurrence.

It's her who makes the first move, though. Before he knows it, her lips are on his and all he has to do is follow. His heart is pounding when he feels her hand on his cheek, stroking gently or pulling him closer, one of the two. He complies, opening his mouth a bit more, touching his tongue to her lip, just like she did before… God, is he doing it right? Her lips are so soft and pliant and intoxicating… and she tastes of sweet cherries now that worked up the nerve to slide his tongue inside, just a little bit…

Sharon likes that. She likes his exploratory streak and unassuming nature that most boys his age seem to miss. He'll once be an extraordinary kisser.

He mirrors her gesture and puts his hand on her cheek. Sweet, but… Sharon takes the hand, not letting him break the kiss, and places it on her boob, squeezing lightly. There's enough light in the room for her to see the shock in his eyes, when, with a gasp, he looks to his own hand and then back to her face and then it's like something clicks in him.

Because it does. The current that suddenly washes all over him seems beyond any sort of control and it's like what he felt when he looked through the porn magazines or imagined doing this, but a hundred times more powerful. It's her, _her_, and she wants him to touch her there and she's so soft and… He no longer needs prompts to go back to kissing her, he just does, with this new-found passion and he squeezes her breast through her clothes; it's so much better than he imagined! Lost is the little voice in the back of his head that the bliss is going straight to his crotch and that it might have consequences, because he's simply unable to pull away from the pleasure.

Sharon slides her hand across the nape of his neck. He doesn't yet know how to touch her with a purpose other than the groping itself, but there'll be time to show him later, she rather enjoys his sudden enthusiasm, she thought he would have to be coaxed into it much more. Her other hand rests on his thigh – she has every intention of feeling up that remarkable hard-on…

But what she does feel next is Jack breathing shakily into her mouth and his hand clamping on her flesh while he feels the familiar surge in his loins and a hasty release that he can do absolutely nothing to hold off… He looks more ashamed than he did when her entourage teased him in broad daylight.

"I… should better go…"

"No, no" she holds on to his arm, realizing what happened. How did she not think it might? But she didn't even touch him yet…

"Now that we have this out of the way," she inches her hand up his thigh, "we can take our time…" she smiles. Not that doesn't know what a sixteen-year-old penis is capable of or that she's under any delusion on how long it can last. Well, to be honest, Sharon isn't even sure if that's not the case with penises of all ages, she hasn't known any other than teenage, but Jack doesn't need to be made aware of that.

"You can…," Sharon points her chin to the door in the side wall. "The bathroom's there. If you want."

He does. But what in the world is he going to do? There's still a wet spot on his underwear, no matter how much he cleans himself up with tissues. Forget the public humiliation earlier that day. Now is the most crushing time of Jack's life. Redefining embarrassment. There he was, making out with this lovely creature and his body went into overdrive in seconds. Is he ever going to be able to have actual sex? He would love to go back to her, he really would… No, he would love to turn back time! Because he doesn't know if he can face her again.

Well... just… maybe. She has taken off her cardigan and the light coming from the bathroom as he opens the door gives her shoulders a golden glow. And she's half lying on the cover of her bed, with this sweet, inviting smile that's like a flame to Jack's inner moth. The hem of her dress rides high up, exposing her long tanned legs and the top of her dress has a button unbuttoned, while one strap has fallen half way down her shoulder. For whatever reason, she still wants him there.

"Are you sure you want to go home?" She asks, when he's standing there, unmoving.

Of course he's not sure. In fact, he wants to stay and wrap himself in her, her smell, if she lets him. It just feels like a honor sacrifice that needs to be done.

But she doesn't have to say anything else. It's incredibly awkward when Jack perches himself on the edge of the bed, before tentatively rolling on top of it, facing Sharon. He feels like he doesn't belong here, like he's a visitor from another world, his plain world of textbooks and workouts and jerking-off before bedtime. This world seems a lot more complex. Fascinatingly so.

She moves closer and places his hand on her hip. "Kiss me."

The fear of embarrassment still lingers, but Jack is delighted to notice that that the previous ineptness and desperation are gone as he does. He's just happy to savor her wonderful lips, slide his tongue along hers, cherish her mouth and the kiss. He doesn't quite know what to do with his hand that feels her warmth seeping out from underneath the thin fabric. A guy should know, shouldn't he. But nobody has ever taught him.

Luckily, there's Sharon. Her fingers trace his chest over his t-shirt, gently, she doesn't want to rush or scare him. He's giving in and that's what she wanted, there's no need to overwhelm him. Not yet.

He's got a nicely sculpted body, she thinks, for such a young guy. Keep the sports routine up and in a couple of years he'll be one hunky dude. Also, he's taking the cue and moving his hand over the side of her body, kind of aimlessly, yeah, but at least he's not trying to reach straight under the skirt, like other guys she's been with. Experimentally, she reaches a finger under the hem of his shirt, running it over his bare skin, just above the waistband of his shorts. He tenses, but the slight shiver combined with instinct pushes his body closer toward hers. And gives him the courage to skim his fingers over her bare thigh where the fabric is huddled up.

Her skin is every bit as he remembers from the day, velvety… no, silky like a flower petal, if Jack has ever paid attention to flowers. The frustration of not knowing the exact moves is quickly being replaced by sheer delight of being allowed near it again. That, and her hand moving up under his t-shirt…

"Here…", she whispers into his mouth "…if you kiss me here…" Oh, okay, she's pointing her other hand to her clavicle. And she makes this tiny sound that's between a sharp exhale and a whimper when he touches his lips to the spot, that resonates like a warm current in his body, even though Jack is kind of shocked how much sensation there can be in a _bone_. He thought it was all about… putting his… in her… Okay, a lot of what he thought is probably bullshit. The way she arches her neck… He's probably doing something right there.

As talented as he is inexperienced, Sharon thinks, relishing his warm breath and lips moving softly against her throat, barely touching. She knows she should probably stop things at this point and he would come back to her like a slave, but she selfishly wants to see how it affects him if she doesn't stop.

When his hand bumps into the underside of her breast, she arches up, to let him know it's okay. He cups the mound through the flimsy material, delicately this time, like he's memorizing the shape. And he is. He would like to ask _how_, what feels good to her, but is too shy, so he just sort of strokes the flesh and prays for more lasting power.

That feels nice, Sharon likes her boobs fondled in any way, but she needs to take this to the next level… Flipping another two buttons of her top open, she moves his hand inside, to touch her under the dress, and no, she isn't wearing a bra.

She watches him draw in a breath and bite on his lips, in an effort to not let her see just _how much _it affects him – poor Jack has no idea yet how much all those sounds and responses make things sexier, and, okay, Sharon hasn't exactly mastered the art either – and his palm rubs against her nipple ever so slightly, making it pebble up.

Jack has nipples too. But he's never paid any attention to them, certainly hasn't rubbed them to hardness… His instinct is to squeeze it between his thumb and forefinger and apparently it's right, because she arches her chest against him. So he squeezes tighter and she draws back a little… Aha, so more isn't always better.

Jack hasn't expected to be allowed to touch her naked breasts, he feels almost dizzy from the excitement, he would love to pull the strap of her dress all the way down and uncover, no, _unwrap_ her whole chest, but what if it's not what she has in mind? He doesn't want to take a single wrong step, maybe if he's good, she'll want to do this again… And more, he thinks in a bold moment.

None of them speak, all the communication done with gestures and heavy breaths. Jack is too engrossed in the experience, and Sharon… Sharon has never been much of a talker in those situations. She doesn't know how, frankly, and when one boyfriend asked her to talk dirty to him, she was completely thrown. Besides, nothing wrong with manual guidance.

Her small firm breast fits whole in Jack's hand, he delights, the flesh so supple, covered with that smooth skin… It's utter and absolute perfection to him. It's just frustrating how the other breast is still covered and their position makes it difficult for Jack to reach it properly.

Sensing that, Sharon sits up, undoes the rest of the buttons all the way down to her waist and slowly pulls the top open and down, feeling like some big time seductress.

He waits until she lies down again before his hand is back to the marvels that just hours ago were merely unavailable fantasy. Her new position means he has to prop himself on one elbow, while his other hand explores her chest and her fingers raking through his hair at the back of his neck encourage him to resume the kissing.

There's this insatiable need in him to kiss her breasts, he's imagined it so vividly… He's still shaking inside, but he tests the waters by moving his lips below her neck line… She doesn't seem to mind. In fact, the grip on his head intensifies when he reaches the curve of one glorious breast. He can actually hear his blood in his ears: her milky smell there is certainly of something edible and delicious.

A smile plays on her lips as Sharon watches him through her lashes. His dark head of thick hair with heavy bangs and his thick eyelashes as he squeezes his eyes shut, roaming his lips across her boob like he's pecking someone's cheek, but determined to cover it all. Time for a bit more schooling.

Gently, she tugs at Jack's t-shirt around his shoulders and neck, making it look like her intention is to get him to take it off – which it also is. But when he sits up and pulls it over his head, he has no time to go back to his interrupted study, she has their positions reversed in seconds, with a cunning smile.

And then she gives him a chance to get acquainted with his very own nipples for the first time in his life, as she sucks one into her mouth, licks and bites softly. The sensation is pretty damn good, he discovers with a surprise. She plants open mouthed kisses around the tiny areolas while alternating between kneading and stroking the muscle. Even through the haze of arousal in his mind – of course his dick is hard like a rock again in his pants – Jack gets the message and does his best to repeat her moves when she's done with the tutoring.

Sharon on the other hand, decides to surprise him again and brushes her fingers across his erection in no uncertain way. He almost gasps, panic washing over him. What if _that_ happens again?

"That feels really good," she whispers in the dim room. Jack isn't sure if she refers to his mouth on her nipple or his hard-on. Either way, it's incredibly reassuring, because Jack has had that idea in his head that he should be able to get hard on demand and not spontaneously, certainly not when he didn't know if it was accepted and desired or not.

_You_ feel really good, Jack would tell her, if he had the nerve.

Next thing he knows, she's got his hand pulled down and under her skirt. His heart is ready to jump out of his chest, but she doesn't push his fingers, where he thinks she would, no. She places them on her inner thigh. And leaves them there. Having no idea how far she wants him to go or how much more of her tantalizing he can take without exploding, Jack strokes the silky skin, inching lower, before going back higher, almost to the edge of her panties -

"It's okay, you can touch…" she whispers against his mouth, because she's decided to kiss him some more.

Jack will remember that sublime moment of first touch to a woman's pussy as a pretty unsexy one: he's trying to think of nothing but Red Sox as his finger comes into contact with the warm, damp cotton. He can't fool his sub-consciousness, of course, so his hand trembles, his whole body may do. If Jack was religious, he might compare the moment to spiritual trance.

Sharon bites back a smile, the look on his face is priceless. Oh, there won't be mind blowing orgasms for her tonight, he's too much of a newbie to this, but she's enjoying toying with him a lot. What she doesn't consider, however, is how much it will mess with his head…

Her guiding hand is on his again, pressing on his fingers, helping him find the spot she likes to be touched best, but she's not expecting him focus enough to get it just right, it's for future reference. She pulls her underwear to the side so he can dip his fingers between her folds. She's wet, yeah, to some degree, all that making out not leaving her indifferent, plus Jack is a sweet and handsome kid with great potential, even though he's nowhere near a sex god. But he will learn, she knows he will, much faster and much better than the arrogant jocks her age.

He's breathing hot puffs of air into the side of her neck where they lay half tangled somewhat gracelessly. He has never imagined how addictive a wet, warm pussy would feel, the soft hair and silky crease and everything. His mind is alternating between the prayer for this to never end and one for his dick to not let him down and then there's the gleam of hope that she would touch him again-

Sharon can recognize the mental struggle in his scrunched up brow, in his jagged breathing... She cups him through his shorts and rubs.

"Uhm…" He attempts to protest and move away, but it's only half-hearted, it all feels too good to give up.

"It's okay," she whispers somewhere close to his ear and he feels her flick the button open and pull the zipper down- And then she's got her hand down his underwear just like he's got down hers.

If Jack thought he'd shoot immediately, it doesn't happen. He's surprised, but her smaller hand has a lighter grip and it feels different and he's not used to the sensation. It's all kinds of amazing for the notion of whose hand it is, a woman's, _hers_, but it doesn't get him off in seconds like his own would do at this point.

Besides, he's trying hard to concentrate on maintaining the circular motion of his fingers she has shown him… God, he wishes he could see, that she would take her panties off and let him see, but he's too grateful to be able to touch to make requests.

Sharon has her own ideas, though. Slipping away from his hand, she makes quick work removing her panties – has his silent prayer been heard? – and then unbuttons her dress fully to get it out of the way – God, her perfect hips, the dark triangle of hair that's his temple already… – he's almost too mesmerized to notice that she's got his cock out of his clothes and is tugging on them to get both of his boxers and shorts down his legs already.

He's dreaming, or he died and went to heaven. This can't be real, because do dreams come true like that? Jack's head is spinning when she straddles him and holds his hard cock to the lips of her pussy.

"You're not exactly my first…" she answers the sudden apprehension in his widened eyes with a teasing smile. He blinks at her, confused. Does she really have to spell it out to him that she knows what she's doing? Apparently, yes. But it's up to him to decide if he should be worried later or stop her now. "I'm on the pill."

Nobody needs to ask anybody more questions about readiness or willingness. He's never wanted anything more in his life and she is determined and having lots of fun like she knew she would.

If Jack thought he's found his religion before, this, when she puts him into position and slowly sinks on him, this is pure paradise. All the fantasizing in the world, all porny magazines, nothing will ever come close to be buried inside a living, breathing woman, and one that he adores with all that he has.

The way she moves, very slowly at first, accommodating him inside her, the way she arches and throws her head back, the way her breasts bounce slightly, the way she practically glows in the dimmed light… She is that goddess. A life source. So hot and velvety inside… Enveloping not only his cock, but his whole being in what feels like blissful eternity personified. Nothing has ever felt this right.

His hands find her smooth thighs and then her hips and waist but Jack doesn't quite know how to give his own instinctually jerking hips any sort of regular rhythm, so he relies on her.

Sharon loves his mesmerized look. She can actually reach climax in this position, but she's not insisting on one, he's so cute when his hands inch up to her breast, a temptation she knew he wouldn't be able to resist. She strokes his cheek in return, the barely-there stubble of a boy who's only started needing to shave, runs her thumb across hiss full lower lip… It does feel nice. She's learnt to appreciate a hard cock inside her, but the sex is more of a conquest to her than fruition.

And just like she expected, like Jack should probably have guessed too, it's over before it has a chance to intensify. She sees his eyes shut and his mouth open, an unwitting groan escaping his throat and yes, she feels a pang of mild annoyance, because she's been just getting into it, but a couple of minutes is all that he's capable of; she'll teach him how to prolong it. The triumph over her prey has been worth it, anyway.

"See you tomorrow," she says with a peck to his lips as she lets him out of the house after they fumbled for their clothes to put back on.

Tomorrow. Jack clings to the hope that she means more of the same, or maybe just holding hands, anything will work for him. It's Sharon, after all, the woman who's just made him a man. Even if, technically, she fucked him, not the other way around. He has no way of telling if she got to the same peak he experienced, but he walks home determined to make sure she does next time. _Tomorrow_.

When he lies down in his own bed, wishing she was beside him so he could feel her warmth again, he feels like he's matured by years rather than hours… And when he replays the events of the night in his head, the memory of the sweet, hot depths of her body… What do you know, he needs to touch himself again.

They continue like that through most of the summer. She finds him at night, or he does, after he grows bolder. He doesn't even have a driver's license yet, so he can't take her out on the fancy dates he fantasizes about. But one time, soon after that first night, he asks her _Are we like… a boyfriend and girlfriend now? _She just laughs and pecks him on the nose._ Let's keep it our little secret_, she says. Jack is hurt, but sucks it up. Maybe she doesn't want to be seen with a younger guy. For now.

He ends up being the one who gets to lick her whole. She shows him the ways to quench all of his newly awaken desires, and to satisfy hers. He learns how to make her toes curl using his tongue, his fingers, his cock… And he finds out what a blowjob feels like. A fantastic one, at that.

When, by the end of August, she announces excitedly that her parents finally agreed to pay for her Paris dance school, he doesn't have the heart to beg her not to go. It's been her long time dream. Something she shouldn't abandon just because of the hopeless teenage love he's developed for her. No, he's nothing but supportive, even if he lies awake the whole night after she told him. And then many more.

He hears from her once, gets one sole letter from her from France. In which she describes Paris, her classes… And apologizes if she's left any heartbreak behind. He was very special to her and she's grateful for the time they had together. She sounds so… grown up.

When he comes back to school that fall, Jack feels like it's the first time girls start noticing him.

* * *

><p>"I'm pretty sure it was <em>you<em> who noticed them noticing you for the first time, Jack," she snuggles up to him in their comfy bed, on the very mattress where their relationship started. Kind of. Apparently, both him and her have been conditioned to backwards beginnings… But her heart is breaking for him, even though the story he's just told her is a distant memory. Even if she's the one making sure he feels loved and wanted and taken care of now.

Their long bath has relaxed her just as much as she hoped it would relax him. His naked body is all warmed up and languid as he wraps his arm around her under the bed sheets.

"But, yeah, I'll take quality over quantity any time!"

"Adulation noted and appreciated by this old guy," he chuckles.

"I do mean it, my _old guy_," she plants a kiss to his neck, a grin breaking out on her face. "But I kind of envy that Sharon girl… You must have been super cute." Even if there might be things to thank her for. "And on the other hand I hate her, for clearly using you."

"She wasn't that bad, just confused." Of course Jack would stand up for the spoilt girl. He probably would with all those women in his past that chewed him and spat him out like he's expendable. "We were both so young…"

"I know, but that's not an excuse for calculated manipulation. I'm sorry it took a broken heart for you to learn to look out for yourself."

"I guess that took a few lessons," he chuckles mirthlessly and her fingers dancing on his chest stop.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. He may be well over all of those _lessons_, but it doesn't mean that the pain never happened. "I'd erase all of them if I could, trust me, Jack." And it's true. If that meant he'd never have had to go through the emotional anguish of having his feelings be walked all over on, through the breakdowns and loneliness and longing, she'd be happy if he married his first girlfriend and lived happily ever after, she wouldn't even mind that it wasn't her. As long as he was loved.

"You already have," he says sweetly. "Who knows, maybe we wouldn't be here if Sharon never went to Paris," he smiles.

"You're such a hopeless romantic at heart," she laughs, the mood never really darkening, because she knows that he's not capable of resenting anyone from his past and that he's happy with her. In fact, it's her who gets teary-eyed every time she realizes that the concept of love she had before him was nowhere near what they have together.

"Am I? Hmm… maybe rose petals on the bed some time would be nice?" He teases.

"Only if you do the laundry," she smiles. "By hand."

"And aren't women into all things soft and pink…" he sighs in false disappointment and then they both laugh when she props herself up on his chest to give him a look and make him realize what he just said.

"So Little Miss Snotty Ballerina popped your cherry," she mutters against his lips, after kissing him slowly but thoroughly. "Who got you into the kinky stuff?"

"Who says I'm into kinky stuff?" His eyebrows rise.

"Well…" she trails off; it's as much a speculation as it is affirmation, at least about the more vanilla side of kinky. She is yet to reveal her darker fantasies to him, but it's not like they haven't done it in more public locations, like his very office and his deliciously dominant persona in sex must have been flexed outside of the usual, she thinks. Or would enjoy that very much. "… that group sex video on your old laptop…"

"Those were all women and God knows, the more naked women to look at, the better the porn," he reasons, teasingly.

"How about today?" She watches his eyes darken at the memory. "Anyone could have heard us…"

"You think I could think about anything else but the naked woman right before me?" He's still not yielding.

"Okay," she pecks him on the lips, deciding she wore him out enough, what with the mental trip into the past. Some time soon she can show him just how much kinky she thinks he is capable of and how much he's going to like it. "I'll prove my point, don't worry." After all, she's got enough silk scarves to tie a big man like Jack to the bed… "And then you can tell me all about her."

By the time she falls asleep to his comforting, even breathing, she's saying a silent thank you to the dancer Sharon and all those women who shaped Jack into who he is today and ultimately, brought him to her


End file.
